


Sailor's Folly

by chargetransfer, messier51



Series: A Sailor's Tail [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Creature Castiel, Dark Castiel, Destiel - Freeform, Destiel Reverse Bang, Destiel Reverse Bang 2016, Drowning, M/M, Mermaid Cas, Sailboat Impala, Sailing, a sad lack of lady characters, implied MCD, mermaid au, merman cas, sailboat sex, unhealthy relationship dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-28 12:31:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6329218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chargetransfer/pseuds/chargetransfer, https://archiveofourown.org/users/messier51/pseuds/messier51
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets hired to sail an odd man from Florida to the other side of the Bermuda triangle. Dean is drawn to Castiel and they work together well; but Dean's never had this much trouble in the devil's triangle before. Maybe the stories are true?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sailor's Folly

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Destiel Reverse Bang](http://destielreversebang.tumblr.com/), based on the wonderful artwork by [chargetransfer](http://chargetransfer.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Special thanks to ceeainthereforthat, captainawesomeellie, brinny2point0, and s-cornelius for beta reading!

 

 

 

Dean sucks in a mouthful of water, and vaguely registers salt. He wants to cough, wants to puke, wants to seize up and _can’t_. Dean focuses on the only thing that gets through the haze: blue, glowing in the dark. Castiel’s eyes calm him more than he wants to admit to himself. _Almosts and maybes don’t cut it at sea, boy_ , says his father’s voice in the back of his mind. But he holds onto the thought. Maybe it’ll all be all right.

♒♒♒

Dean shoved the newspaper in Sam’s face. Sam couldn’t miss it: an ad for someone looking to hire a boat out to [23°26'13.9"N 66°30'00.0"W](https://www.google.com/maps/place/23%C2%B026%2713.9%22N+66%C2%B030%2700.0%22W/@28.1408204,-78.6773284,3420272m/data=!3m1!1e3!4m2!3m1!1s0x0:0x0) circled in bright red.

“You’re looking for company in the personal ads now?” Sam tossed the paper across the kitchen table.

“It’s a job, Sammy. A charter. It’s perfect.”

“Tell me you didn’t call them already,” Sam said, eyes back on scratched out pages of law jargon. They’d grown up sailing around the world and all Sam had gotten out of that was a fascination with international law that still made Dean queasy. Dean himself had joined as a mate on a racing boat as soon as he’d gotten his GED.

“Aww you’re worried,” Dean ruffled his grown brother’s too-long hair, and picked up his newspaper. “It’s fine. Seriously. It’s a little farther than the Bahamas, but it’s a lot of money. And the guy sounded nice--I think he’s French or something.”

“You’re gonna give him a crash course first?”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna do it solo. This isn’t any different--”

“From any of the sorority girls or firemen you’ve taken out for romantic boatrides and charters,” Sam finished for him. “I know. It’s just unprecedented--usually _you’re_ the one running ads. When are you leaving?”

Dean waited for an ambulance siren to fade into the din of the city noise before he told Sam, “As soon as possible.”

Sam was still dubious, but money made the decision easier; twelve thousand dollars up front, and $600 for every day they were out. It’d go a long way towards student loans and harbor fees.

Dean was chatting with Rufus at the gate when a dark-haired man walked up, tugging at his collar, obviously too hot in a dress shirt with a tie, cheap black suit pants and dress shoes, his jacket in his hand. Probably lost, Dean thought. He’d almost tripped over the curb stepping onto the gravel at the gate, and Dean threw a look at the old security guard that said _good luck_ before turning back towards his boat. He got a few steps before the awkward man started talking.

“Excuse me,” said the voice Dean recognized from his phone conversation with his new client, “I’m here to meet with Dean Winchester, do you know where I could find him?”

As Rufus responded, Dean took a deep breath and steeled his hopes against a long trip with a useless passenger. Easy on the eyes isn’t helpful when you can’t get any sleep. Money, ocean. Not the worst job, still. He made himself smile before he turned around. “Nice to meet you, Castiel right? Let me introduce you to my baby, and we can talk details.”

Castiel Del Mar smiled hopefully, and followed him out onto the docks.

“This is the _Impala,_ ” Dean said when they reached the old wooden Islander. Castiel took her in, but said nothing, so Dean reached for something else to say.

“I’ve got a standard contract, I can give you a copy,” and then on a whim he asked, “You wanna go out right now? You can see what it’s like before you sign anything?”

Castiel’s eyes lit up with interest.

“I think I would like that. What do you want me to do?”

Dean’s eyebrow got the better of him at that question, but Castiel didn’t seem to notice.

“Just sit and watch for now. If you’ve got time this week I’ll teach you more before we leave, but I don’t want you to ruin your fancy clothes on account of me. Just sit tight and enjoy the ride, all right?”

Castiel frowned down at his clothes, as if realizing for the first time just exactly what he was wearing. Dean watched him out of the corner of his eye as he readied the boat, as Castiel toed off his shoes and socks, and rolled up his sleeves.

“You can put those below deck if you want,” Dean said after he explained all his safety rules. “Take a look around, too. It’s all teak, and pretty comfortable.”

The look of excitement on Castiel’s face, and the fact that he was strangely less clumsy on the water than he’d been on land made Dean hopeful. Dean found himself explaining things that afternoon and letting Castiel help even though he’d meant only to show off his boat a bit. Castiel’s agile fingers tied knots quickly and precisely, and over the course of the next week he learned the purpose of each line and how to put up and take down the sails. He took orders from Dean like he’d been born to do it. And he looked good on Dean’s boat.

The _Impala_ was old but well cared-for. The 37-foot Islander was rugged, fast, and good-looking, despite being built in 1967. Dean can almost remember when Mom and Dad bought the _Impala,_ right before the accident. Dean had been practically raised onboard, and he’d kept her maintained and upgraded even when she’d been in dry dock.

Dean and Castiel learned to move around each other and sailed the Florida coastline while they made their preparations to leave. Dean figured the trip out to Castiel’s desired location would take somewhere in the neighborhood of a week if weather favored them--and it almost never did. Dean could do it faster if they motorsailed, and with an experienced crew on a boat delivery he would’ve. Castiel requested they use the motor as little as possible, and Dean wasn’t going to argue with more days out on the water. Especially not for what he’d be getting paid.

With forecasts in their favor, Dean and Castiel had planned to set out on a Thursday morning. Tuesday night, Castiel turned around to face Dean instead of leaving silently as he’d done the previous nights.

“Do you need a ride home?” Castiel asked. He continued, unsure; “We could stop at a bar--that’s what’s expected before a trip of this sort, right?”

Dean smiled, and shook his head. “No, thanks. I’ve got a few things I need to do here, and I’m sleeping onboard tonight.” He finished wrapping up the rope in his hand before he added, “Which reminds me, I’m going over final plans with my brother tomorrow and bribing him to check my mail while I’m gone, so don’t bother showing up until afternoon. Bring anything you want to stow ahead of time, and if the sky clears up we’ll see how far we can get. Sound good?”

Castiel nodded, and turned around, before turning back once more, reaching into his pocket. He squatted on the pier, and handed a piece of paper over to Dean--a check, just like he’d said. Twelve-thousand dollars. Dean swallowed hard.

“That’s a lot of money to hand over,” Dean said, not looking up from the check. “What sort of job you got to earn enough money to for trips to random spots in the ocean?”

“I clean houses,” Castiel responded.

“So you’re a maid?”

Cas made a puzzled face, “I’m not a young woman.”

“A housekeeper,” Dean replied, “Do you have a cute apron and everything?”

“They’re fish houses. Tanks? In the aquarium…” Castiel paused, and smiled apologetically. He finished lamely, “I’m good with fish.”

Castiel didn’t have an accent, but his name was odd enough, and his misunderstandings amused Dean. But if he liked fish, that explained why he’d want to go out into the ocean. Sort of. Dean smiled as he watched Castiel walk away, thinking about how his hair was almost as dark as the paint on his baby’s hull, and how his eyes always seemed to match the sky.

The next few weeks, Dean decided, wouldn’t be so bad.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to go down through the bahamas first? Less open water,” Sam asked, worried.

“Me and Benny did this a few times on boat deliveries, it’s lots faster,” Dean told him, but they’d had this conversation a few times already.

“Benny isn’t so....”

“New to sailing? It’ll be fine, Castiel is good. And I’m _awesome_. You’re too worried.”

“You’re not worried enough,” Sam chastised, sounding a little too much like their father.

Dean just shook his head, and looked at the flags and permits on the table in front of them. “We’ll resupply in the British Virgin Islands, and take the long way back. Just to make you happy.”

Sam rolled his eyes.

“You ever ask him why?”

“With the weird coordinates?”

“Yeah.” Sam separated his duplicates of Dean’s maps into a pile, and traced out a triangle on the top one. “Maybe he just wants to brag about sailing through the Devil’s Triangle.”

Dean scratched his chest, “You don’t think he’s part of a conspiracy, do you? Maybe the aliens will come to abduct us.”

“Sea monsters,” Sam said. “Just be careful, okay?”

“Am I ever not?” Dean said, slapping his brother’s shoulder one last time before heading out.

Dean and Castiel only managed a quick trip out of the harbor and back Wednesday evening, as a last check that everything was in working order before leaving the next day. Dean made sure they went through the checklist to make sure everything was ready to go in the morning.

“Cas, you’re not half-bad at this,” Dean had told him. Castiel’d raised an eyebrow, but Dean didn’t know if it was at the praise or the shortened version of his name. Dean held out his hand to shake Cas’ goodnight, but Cas had looked at it in offense.

“Don’t forget your stuff tomorrow. Weather looks good, so I’d like to aim for sunrise. See you tomorrow?”

Cas nodded, and disappeared.

Good forecasts and warm sun chased them out onto open water. Setting off on long trips, always made Dean feel giddy; it felt like going home. He knew he should sleep more than he did in the first day, while Cas (who wasn’t used to the odd hours of sailing) was awake, but he didn’t. He never needed much sleep anyway.

“You should put on your shoes tonight Cas. It gets chilly out here.” Cas had gone barefoot onboard since their first outing.

Cas shrugged, and Dean gave it another go.

“All I’m saying is, cold and damp is a bad combination.”

“Socks are one of humanity’s worst blunders,” Cas said, offended.

“Oh, yeah, tell me how you really feel,” Dean said, pulling his jacket on and sitting next to Cas on the bench seats. The stars were starting to come out. Or more accurately, the planets. Venus and Mercury glowing in dusk light of the sunset, and Jupiter overhead.

“Humans ruin that too,” Cas said, close to Dean’s ear. When Dean leaned back, Cas was looking intently at him. “The sky is too hard to see in the city.”

“Oh.”

“And all of the meaningless violence. Humans don’t even eat each other.”

Dean laughed, hoping it was a joke.

“All right. Well if you’re not tired I’m gonna get a little shuteye, but you wake me if anything changes, at all. Okay?”

“Aye aye, captain,” Cas said with a mock salute.

“Don’t ever say that again,” Dean said, but smiled.

They took turns with watches through the night; Cas with strict orders that the slightest strangeness meant to wake Dean. Dean managed two hours of straight sleep before checking on Cas--and another two after, before he took over. He’d slept another two hour shift in the morning, when the sun rose and the wind died.

Two days out with no trouble Dean had enough of a signal on his [Iridium Go](http://www.yachtingworld.com/reviews/gear-reviews/review-iridium-go-satellite-wifi) to send Sam a message and check the weather again. Sam responded to an email quickly enough that Dean called him.

Dean buried his brother in the details of their first few days, hoping that it would alleviate Sam’s worries. He stopped when he heard Sam giggling.

“What the hell, man?”

“I’m glad that everything’s going well but I don’t need to know how hot your passengers are every time you leave.”

“‘Course you do. It’s part of how you know everything's going well.”

“If he’s as good as you say he is, maybe he’d be interested in sailing more. You could take more delivery jobs, and even charters would be easier with a partner.”

“If you were really worried about me you’d pull your head out of your books,” Dean said. It was an old argument.

“Just think about it,” Sam said, “and keep your eyes open.”

“G’night little brother,” Dean told him before hanging up.

They got three days of decent wind before the gentle weather turned to rougher headwinds. They sailed close-hauled with no trouble, and the day passed even more easily than Dean could have hoped: Cas was as natural at sea as anyone Dean’d ever met. Observant, balanced, strong, patient. He took a shift in his berth fully trusting another person with his boat for the first time since he’d sailed with Sam. Stretched out in his berth, Dean heard singing. It almost sounded like more than one voice, like the ocean was singing back to Cas, but it sounded like elation. Dean drifted off with a smile on his face.

When Dean woke up he was totally out of it. He never would’ve slept through the whole night--not on the water, and yet it was inexplicably light out when he made his way topsides. The first thing Dean did was check his instruments, only to find his GPS unresponsive. The simple terror of having no fucking clue where they were got shoved down as he methodically checked through his maps. People sailed for thousands of years without a GPS, and he’d learned the constellations before he’d been tall enough to reach the boom. He knew they’d be fine, if he kept his shit together. It wasn’t the worst thing that’d ever happened.

It didn’t help that the satellite wifi was unresponsive, too.

Nursing a cup of coffee in an attempt to clear his head, he thought of the singing he’d heard the previous night. In the light of day he wondered if it had been the ocean, or even a dream. It hadn’t really sounded human, and the different voices... Dean rubbed his face, wondering where Cas had gotten to. _The Impala_ wasn’t small but there wasn’t exactly any place to hide on her, and yet, he hadn’t seen his blue-eyed mate. Dean shook his head and made a few adjustments to the mainsail, estimating that they were still on course from the angle of the sun.

When Dean looked down from the sky, there Cas had been. Cas, walking across deck, wet and pulling a shirt on, covering up some strange gashes--or maybe they were just tattoos?--on his side. Dean had tried to shake the image out of his head.

“You’re awake; huh?” Cas said, smiling widely, walking over, dragging a wet finger along the line of Dean’s chin, tilting it up a bit. Dean thought Cas might kiss him--or maybe he’d been hoping. He’d sunk back onto the seat, grasping for a handhold and feeling like he’d never been on a boat when Cas’ hand dropped.

“I think my equipment is a little off, but I’ll get us back on course,” Dean said, trying to regain his balance and control. He tried to add some bravado to his voice when he’d added, “You don’t have to worry, I’ve been doing this for forever.”

“I’m not worried, Dean. This is all very exciting. Being out on the water is amazing isn’t it?” Cas said, smiling at the water.

Dean nodded. He felt the same way--the ocean recharged him, too. He’d always felt that way. There was freedom on the waves and being on land felt like being tied down; like he had some destiny he was required to fulfill. The ocean was open: endless opportunity.

Dean mucked about with his electronics until he’d been almost satisfied, and waited for a signal that never came. Cas was nice enough to make dinner while he pored through atlases and maps, dragging every bit of information he could remember about navigation from the cobwebs in his mind.

It might’ve been helpful, he thought, if they hadn’t had a cloudy night.

Cas was good-humored about the whole thing, and they put out the parachute anchor to keep from getting turned around after the sun set. In celebration of their first major mishap, Dean opened up a new bottle of whisky.

They finished the bottle.

“You don’t have to go back to being a maid if y’don’t want to,” Dean told Cas.

Dean shined a flashlight in Cas’ face so that he could see Cas’ forehead creased in confusion when he didn’t answer.

“You’re good at this, is all. It’s hard to sail alone, and Sam’s busy. Sometimes I do deliveries, sometimes I take people places. I could use a mate. If it was something you wanted to do, is all.”

Cas looked away--to the sea, maybe for answers. That’s what Dean always did too; he had wondered if Cas understood her answers better than Dean ever did.

The next day was better, and between a compass Dean put together, boy scout style with a needle and a magnet he found in one of the lockers, and some careful tracking of the sun, they made good headway. When the clouds cleared, Dean had hoped to pick up satellite signals again, but with no luck he doubled down on his paper charts.

The clear weather gave Dean exactly what he’d wanted, and they were able to pinpoint their position: too far to the south, but on course still. Cheered by the clear weather (and perhaps despite it) and the good day, they dropped the anchor again and Cas opened a bottle of wine. With their feet dangling over the bow, and watched the milky way distinguish itself. Dean had been glad Cas didn’t freak out through all of their troubles--Dean wouldn’t’ve minded being lost alone, but things are different on a job. When the wine bottle was empty, Cas had looked at Dean hungry and predatory. Dean leaned into it.

When Dean woke the next day, the weather had changed for the worse. Cas had pulled up the anchor and they were heeling, with high winds and driving rain. Dean would’ve yelled at Cas, but he felt so disoriented. Dean set to work shortening the sails, and gently directed Cas to put on his rain gear quickly.

“We have to--hold on--yes!” Dean shouted, not sure what Cas could or couldn’t hear over the wind and water. “C’mon baby you hear me? Hold together. Don’t let me down now,” he said to the boat.

Cas’ eyes turned gray to match the sky as he watched Dean for any cues. All Dean had to do was point, and Cas seemed to know what he needed to do.

Eventually the wind subsided, leaving them drenched but safe.

“You should have woken me up,” Dean said, trying not to sound angry, as Cas sagged into the bench seat.

“I tried. You were out cold. I did my best,” Cas looked up at Dean guiltily. Or maybe just sheepishly? Dean was too tired to care.

He went below and set up his boy scout compass again, but it seemed to be as confused as he was. He thought maybe he’d fucked up the magnetization of the needle, but it could wait until they had something to sail by again.

Dean napped uneasily for an hour, and woke to Cas’ gentle insistence. The sun was breaking through the clouds, low on the horizon, and storm wall behind them cast rainbows into the water. Dean took a deep breath, and relaxed.

Cas remained unworried, and Dean let himself be bolstered by his strange client’s attitude.

“Well, that’s not awful, huh,” Dean said.

“So if that’s the sun, we’re still headed the right way,” Cas said pointing.

“Yeah, that’s something,” Dean said, and he let himself smile back at Cas. “All right all right get back to work, we’ve got a boat to sail,” he said with mock severity.

Dean tried to figure out their longitude while Cas kept the boat pointed west.

“Do you ever worry that a storm would destroy you?” Cas asked, as he looked over Dean’s notes.

“Maybe,” Dean said tentatively. “It’s always a worry. But it hasn’t killed me yet. And it’s not enough of a reason to stay away,” Dean leaned towards Cas as he got closer. “Better to die out here than never to try, right?”

“Would you regret being stuck at sea forever?”

Cas’ strange question gave Dean pause, and he leaned back a bit. Cas reached out to Dean, maybe just to let him know he wasn’t out there alone.

“I’d miss Sam. Forever isn’t that long when you starve or dehydrate or go mad, too. Sailors don’t just disappear at sea, they die.”

“But it’s better than being stuck on land, still?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, it is,” Dean said, and Cas smiled softly.

Dean couldn’t help but return that smile, and didn’t stop himself from running a hand though Cas’ salt-and-wind-kissed hair, as it finally dried out from the storm.

When Dean set the autopilot to make dinner, Cas didn’t let him get all the way to the galley. They collided against the wall, and Cas avoided kissing Dean’s mouth, focusing on licking the salt from the rest of him. Dean remembered the touches they shared clearly--different from other times. The night they’d been on deck, Cas had kissed him then too hadn’t he? Dean didn’t know for sure.

They stripped each other out of their storm gear, pushing it aside to be dealt with later. Cas’ fingers were every bit as clever as he’d shown to be with ropes, and Dean pushed and pulled him against the motions of the boat in the waves. They made love rough and faster than Dean would have liked if he’d been in more control.

Dean unwrapped himself from Cas’ arm to protest, and went topsides to check that everything was copasetic before crawling back into the warmth of Cas’ company.

“Everything still okay?” Cas asked sarcastically.

“‘S fine,” Dean mumbled with cold lips against Cas’ neck, and took pride in the shivers at his touch.

Dean pulled away, running a hand along the dark mark along Cas’ abdomen. “What’s this mean?” he asked.

Cas squirmed at the touch as if it tickled, sucking in a deep breath of air.

“What’s yours mean?” Cas asked, turning over and eying the ink on Dean’s chest.

“It’s for protection.”

“From what?” Cas asked lightly, as he drew Dean’s hands away from his sides, to the space between their bare chests. Dean pulled one of Cas’ hands to the ink, tracing out the pattern by memory.

“Sea monsters. Demons. The ocean. The star is for the north star--it’s for guidance. The fire is because everyone knows that water creatures don’t like fire.” Dean stopped the motion of their hands, and looked up at the ceiling. “It’s stupid,” Dean said, and squirmed a little in Cas’ arms.

Cas _hmm’d_ lowly in response, circling Dean fully with his arms.

“My brother and I came up with it when we were little. We lived on this boat for… for years. Most of our lives. When we got old enough to convince the tattoo artists we were adults, we got inked up with it. Dad too. Hang on--I forgot to check---”

Dean flipped the power on his satellite receiver. He hadn’t tried to contact Sam in a few days. The screen flashed before cutting out this time. He plugged it back in. Fucking Devil’s Triangle.

When Dean went back to Cas after that, for the first time, Cas had looked worried. Dean had crawled back into his arms again, and looked at him without a word. And maybe Cas had looked a bit surprised when Dean drew his face forward to kiss him.

♒♒♒

Which is the last thing Dean remembers before waking up to a lack of air, stinging eyes, and constricted movements. Cas is… weird looking, but he’s there in the water too. There’s surprise in his eyes, again, when Dean looks at him. Or maybe it’s disappointment. Dean failed to get him where he wanted to go, and he’s taking his revenge? He never seemed upset.

Cas smiles wide, and Dean sees the tattoo on his side flare open. He has ropes in his hands, ropes that Dean’s wrapped up in. Realizing that he’s been tied down makes Dean struggle more, and he loses the little bit of air left in his lungs.

Dean focuses on Cas. They’ve been working so well together, Cas will save him. Every bit of his focus on Cas.

Cas has a tail?

Cas is a fish.

And a man.

Dean’s must have sunstroke, he’s going bonkers out at sea, and maybe Cas must’ve poisoned him. Or it’s just because he’s not getting enough oxygen. Mermaids aren’t real. Shoulda gotten paid up front.

Did get paid up front. Sam deposited the check. Sammy will be okay. It’s fine.

Dean’s lungs expel the rest of their air in relief, and screech pain at the lack of a new supply.

Cas’ empty hand, callused and rough just like the last time Dean felt it, runs across Dean’s neck before coming down to trace the star on dean’s collarbone. The last thing Dean sees before losing consciousness are Cas’ eyes, the only thing bright enough to follow.

 

 


End file.
